


Dawn Of A New Day

by TheBlackMagister



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Rick Grimes, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Shane Walsh, M/M, Negan (Walking Dead) Being an Asshole, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Shane Walsh, Savior Rick Grimes, Savior Shane Walsh, Shane Walsh Lives, Tags May Change, Top Negan (Walking Dead), Top Shane Walsh, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-03-14 21:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13598697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackMagister/pseuds/TheBlackMagister
Summary: Rick stops Carl from killing Shane, and from there the three of them forge a new path.





	1. Chapter 1

Shane has a gun aimed at Rick’s face.

Rick wonders, despairingly, how it got this far. His best friend – his _brother_ – driven to the point of murder, and for what? Because they disagreed? Surely there had to be something else. He doesn’t know how he’d let it get this far - he could have stopped it, he knows he could have - if he had just been paying more attention-

Still, the expression on Shane’s face tugs at his heartstrings. He’s standing here, in the dead of night, much too far away for anyone to hear, with a gun pointed at him – and all he can feel is pity, and sadness. Shane looks damn near feral, and although his expression is calm there’s something much too bright, and much too broken, in his eyes, and it hurts Rick to see him like this.

However. Rick thinks his words are getting through to the other man; Shane’s aim is starting to waver, breaths coming ragged and hoarse, his brown eyes growing uncertain. Rick’s got his hands up, keeps his voice soft and calming, and it’s _working_ , he thinks – Shane won’t shoot him. Not now, at least. Shane’s still aimed at him, but his finger has slipped off the trigger now.

Rick is reaching for the gun when he notices the figure approaching them quickly from the trees. It takes him two heartbeats to recognize them, three to acknowledge the gun pointed, not at him, but at Shane.

“Carl, _no!_ ”

Rick’s shout startles Carl – Shane, too, and he turns just in time to catch a bullet in the shoulder. He hits the ground like a sack of flour, blood spilling out over his fingers, and Rick stumbles forward, dropping next to the man. Carl seems shocked; he’s standing stock-still, pistol still in hand.

Rick tears off his jacket and presses it to his friend’s bleeding wound. Shane jerks and hisses, and Rick tries to soothe him, voice trembling with fear. His hands are shaking – he can only think of when he’d gotten shot, way back when, the coma he’d been thrown into, and the thought of something like that happening to Shane fills him with a dread so intense he’s afraid he might vomit. Fortunately, he thinks, Shane’s still very much conscious, and he has to force himself not to apply too much pressure to Shane’s shoulder.

“I – I didn’t mean to..” Carl’s staggered over by now, and he’s staring down in horror at the two men, the gun loose in his fingers. “I’m – I’m sorry-”

He trails off, and the ensuing silence.. isn’t so silent. The grass on the other side of the hill is rustling. It’s terrifyingly familiar, and Rick freezes up, hands going slack on Shane’s shoulder. Carl turns to face the sound; even Shane’s head lifts, eyes widening minutely. It occurs to Rick now that they’re exposed – they’re sitting ducks, here in the field, where anyone – or any _thing_ – could find them. Fear strikes his heart. They need to get out of here.

He shoves his own shoulder under Shane’s uninjured one, heaving Shane up off the ground. Shane groans weakly with pain. He picks Shane’s gun up off the ground and holds it out in front of them as they stumble forward, back towards the house. Rick can feel him trembling, his breathing labored and harsh. He’s obviously in pain – but like always, he’s got to be strong, forcing himself past his limits. Rick’s grateful for that, just this once.

They’re cut off before they can get very far, walkers streaming in front of them, and Rick automatically switches the gun to his other hand and grabs hold of the back of Carl’s shirt. The boy looks frightened, rightfully so, and he clings to his father, eyes wide.

“Gotta go the other way,” Shane groans in Rick’s ear. “Into the trees.”

Rick obeys, running on autopilot. Falling in line with Shane’s instructions comes naturally to him, and he backpedals, dragging all three of them towards the tree line. They reach the forest edge, and for a moment Rick worries about if Shane will be able to make it – he’s losing blood fast, face pale and expression tight with pain – but Shane forges ahead with him, looking determined, so he continues on, trying to urge them on as quickly as possible.

Rick counts them lucky that no walkers follow them. His chest stings from the cold, and Shane is _heavy_ – and right now, he’s not sure he could protect them, even with the gun in his hand. Carl’s shaking, holding onto his other hand, and he doesn’t dare let go, so he’s only got the arm slung around Shane to work with.

“Dad,” Carl says, trembling voice sharp. “Look.”

It’s a nice little two-story cabin. Rick doesn’t remember seeing it on the Greene’s property before, so he thinks they must have travelled far; he must have been really running on autopilot, to not notice how long they’ve been traveling. He blinks a couple of times and starts forward, feeling a spark of hope, only for Shane to give out next to him. The force of the man’s collapse is enough to bring Rick to his knees.

“Don’t do this, man,” Rick hisses through gritted teeth, making an effort to heave Shane off the ground. “Come _on_.”

“Rick,” Shane says, and he sounds _weak_ , and it makes Rick’s heart ache. “I can’t – you have to-”

“Don’t fucking say that.” Rick gives him another heave. “Goddamnit, Shane, get up!”

It takes a concentrated effort, but eventually Shane stumbles to his feet, and Rick half-drags, half-carries him to the cabin. Carl darts ahead to open the door, for which Rick is grateful, because as soon as they get inside he and Shane both crumple, out of breath and panting. Rick’s muscles are screaming and his lungs burn like hell, and he leans against the wall, chest heaving.

It takes several moments for the pain to subside. Finally he drags himself back to his feet, carefully adjusting his grip on the gun as he does so. They don’t know this place is safe – and even if it is, it might not be forever.

“Carl,” He says, rolling his shoulders to relieve the soreness. “Help me move this couch..”

It’s not necessarily he thinks Carl will be a huge help – he’s not sure what an eight-year-old could do – but he doesn’t like the thought of Carl running off, or being grabbed. They shove the couch in front of the door, pressing it firmly to the wood, and upon examining the room he notices a small kit that had probably been under the couch. _Bingo_.

He picks it up and examines it. It’s got a bunch of first aid supplies – a sewing kit that Rick privately thinks must have been for fabric, a bottle of peroxide that’s almost full, a roll of bandages, and some other miscellaneous healthcare items – and the sight relieves him beyond belief. He glances over at Shane; Shane’s holding his jacket to the front of the wound, but he doesn’t seem any worse than he had outside, so Rick gestures to Carl and nods upstairs.

“Come on,” He mutters. “Let’s check upstairs, see if there’s anything to use.”

Together they climb the staircase, guns drawn. Rick is grateful now that he’d taught Carl to shoot. There’s three rooms – two bedrooms and a bathroom, they discover, all empty. It’s like the place has been untouched, which makes Rick uneasy, but for now it’s all they’ve got. He drags a sleeping bag out of the closet of the second bedroom, automatically deciding Carl will take it, and after he rolls it out in the first bedroom he returns to Shane.

Shane’s expression is stony, and he won’t meet Rick’s eyes. _Fine_ , Rick thinks bitterly, as he kneels and hefts a shoulder under Shane’s uninjured one. Shane goes easily enough, leaning heavily on Rick, and slowly they head up the stairs. It’s slow, painful; Shane’s weak, and it’s mostly Rick carrying him up, until they reach the bedroom and he can dump the older man on the bed. Carl is curled up in the sleeping bag already, but he’s not asleep, for sure, instead watching the two of them through wide blue eyes.

Rick pulls out the sewing kit. Shane eyes it warily; but if he’s got any smart-assed replies, he doesn’t say anything. Rick sits next to him on the bed, carefully pulling away the jacket covering the wound and then Shane’s coat and shirt. The bullet had gone all the way through, which Rick considers a stroke of luck – _too many_ , he thinks grimly. Something is going to go wrong, probably sooner rather than later.

He’s glad, at least, that Shane is a grown man and knows how to handle pain. Shane sits still as Rick stitches him up, and although he’s clearly in pain, the only real sign is his grip on the sheets and the hisses of breath through gritted teeth. Rick refrains from trying to comfort him the way he’d comfort Carl. He knows Shane wouldn’t appreciate it.

When he’s finished stitching, he carefully wraps Shane’s shoulder in the bandages as best he can. It’s at an awkward position, and he figures he’ll probably have to redo it soon, but for now he leans back and surveys his handiwork. Shane relaxes back into the bed, grimacing a little.

“That’ll do,” Rick says finally. “Just try not to move it too much.”

“Will do, _doc_.” Shane huffs, still not meeting his gaze. “Tell me something, Rick. Why’d you save me?”

“You’re my friend.” Rick frowns a little. “Don’t start this shit, Shane. I did what I did, and now we have to live with it.”

Shane snorts disbelievingly, scowling in Rick’s general direction. “You really think you can keep me alive? We only got the one bottle of peroxide. It runs out, and then what? This gets infected.. and I die anyway.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Rick repeats firmly. “We’ll figure this out. Just.. sleep, okay? We’ll talk about this later.”

Shane finally meets Rick’s gaze, and Rick holds eye contact until Shane’s scowl deepens and he shrugs. “Fine. Whatever.”

He turns his back on Rick, and Rick sighs, standing up. “Fine,” He repeats. Then he turns on his heel and ducks out of the room, instead sinking down against the wall next to the door, clutching his gun. Just in case, he thinks; there’s no way a place like this isn’t occupied already, and he doesn’t want to be caught off guard. He sighs. He doesn’t know why Shane has to be so _difficult_. What had he done? Been alive? He’d thought Shane would be ecstatic to see him. But Shane.. Shane was more in love with his wife than excited for him to be back.

 _Lori_. God, he misses her. He hopes they’re all safe, really, but her.. and their baby. He wishes he could go back and hold her and apologize for all the things he’s done. He wishes he’d been better to her.

The sound of the door opening makes him jolt, and he quickly wipes his damp eyes with the back of his hand. Carl steps out after him and sits next to him. He focuses on keeping his emotions under control and, after making sure his hands aren’t shaking, he ruffles Carl’s hair.

“What’s up?”

Carl hesitates for a moment, frowning a little. “Why _did_ you save Shane?”

“Because.. because he’s my friend.” Rick takes a breath, leaving his hand on top of Carl’s head. “It’s complicated, Carl. But he’s still my friend.”

“Even after he hurt you?” Carl presses, looking skeptical. Rick nods.

“Scared and upset people do bad things sometimes. Shane will calm down.” Rick hums, folding his free arm across his knees. “I believe in him.”

Carl is silent for a pause. Then he nods, slowly, blue eyes thoughtful. “Do you like Shane?”

Rick frowns. “Of course I do. We’re friends.”

“I mean – do you.. do you like Shane the way you like Mom?”

Rick’s taken aback for a moment, gaze dropping to meet his son’s. “What? No – no. Shane and I are like brothers, is all. We’re family.”

Carl nods again, still looking thoughtful. “Okay,” He says. “If you say so.”

“I do.” Rick gives the boy a nudge and nods back to the room. “Now, you need to sleep. Go on. I’ll keep watch out here.”

Carl stands obediently and re-enters the bedroom. Rick, alone in the hallway now, leans his head back against the wall. He still aches a little – and now his thoughts are racing. He can’t believe he’d saved the man who tried to kill him. In doing so, he’d possibly given up seeing his wife, his child, the rest of their group again, for Shane – who, even now, is still being an asshole about it.

Rick rubs at his eyes, scowls at the floor. He should probably try and sleep, he thinks; they’re going to have a lot to do tomorrow, and he needs to be rested. Besides, nobody’s showed up yet, and he thinks as long as he sleeps with the gun he can defend them just fine. He hauls himself to his feet and ducks back into the bedroom.

Carl isn’t asleep yet, not that that’s surprising – but Shane is, or at least appears to be, so Rick makes an effort to keep quiet as he creeps over to the closet and withdraws a second sleeping bag. He lays it out between Carl and the bed and rests the gun just within reach, then slips inside, shivering a little.

“Goodnight, Carl,” He says softly. Carl hums.

“Goodnight, Dad.”


	2. Chapter 2

Rick isn’t the first one awake in the morning.

When he opens his eyes, Carl is gone. The realization makes him panic, and he jerks up from the floor, terrified. Shane’s still asleep – out like a light, actually. Rather than wake him and risk an argument that definitely won’t help, Rick clambers out of the sleeping bag and reaches for his gun, only to find it gone.

 _Fuck. Fucking fuck._ Now he’s truly in panic mode, the parent side of him clawing at his insides, and he all but sprints out of the bedroom. Carl could be anywhere – and if there _is_ someone else living here, he doesn’t even know if they’re still alone or not. He can’t even risk calling for Carl.

First thing’s first. He checks the other bedroom and the bathroom but finds nothing – not a sign of Carl, nor of anyone else. The desperation in him is growing, and he’s nearly blind with panic as he bolts down the stairs.

Then Carl appears from another door, one that they hadn’t noticed last night. Rick just about falls on him, wrapping him in a huge bear hug until he squeaks. It takes all of Rick’s effort to let go of him after a few moments.

“Carl,” He says, his voice raspy still. “God. I didn’t know if.. don’t run off like that.”

Carl seems bewildered, but he nods nonetheless, blue eyes wide. Rick lets out a breath and closes his eyes, sagging with relief. _Thank God_.

“What are you doing up?” Rick finally manages to say, running a hand through his curls. This seems to brighten Carl’s mood some, and his eyes light up.

“I just woke up,” He says breezily, and Rick notices a little smile starting to tug at his lips. “But you should come see what I found! There’s a basement.”

Rick nods slowly. He doesn’t like that – but Carl has obviously already been down there, so he supposes it must not be so bad. He allows Carl to lead him to the basement door, and he opens it, frowning a little. It’s nice, almost nicer than the rest of the house, which does nothing to soothe Rick’s nerves.

“Do you have my gun, Carl?” He says quietly, and Carl nods, handing it over. He readies it in his hand and leads the way downstairs. All of his muscles are tense and he’s on edge, but Carl seems to be in a relatively good mood, considering.

He can tell why when they get down there. There’s a half-full packet of water bottles and what looks like space food packages. He thinks they could live for a few weeks on this, if they ration right. He kneels down and searches through the supplies, looking to see if there’s anything else. The only other things he finds are a handful of books hidden in the corner, although he supposes it’s good to have something to keep them occupied.

“This is fantastic, Carl,” He says, and Carl brightens, smiling widely. “Great job.”

He decides not to reprimand Carl for running off just yet. Carl’s so clearly proud of himself that Rick would feel bad scolding him. And Carl’s, admittedly brave, stupidity has gotten them food and water. _Thank God for Doomsday Preppers_ , he thinks.

He enlists Carl to help him carry the supplies up to the bedroom. Shane is waking up now; he looks mildly confused at their re-entrance, but he doesn’t question any of it, especially thanks to the fact they have supplies now.

“Can we eat some of this now?” Carl pleads, looking up at his father with big eyes. “I’m hungry.”

Rick hesitates, then sighs and relents. “Alright,” He agrees. “Get some out.” Then he moves over to sit on the edge of the bed near Shane’s legs, the earlier adrenaline finally giving way to tiredness. Shane tips his head.

“You think you’re real big, don’t you, Rick?” Shane murmurs, but there’s no real venom in his voice. “Savin’ my life like this.”

“Shut up and be grateful.” Rick’s can’t muster up any aggression either, though. He’s tired, and mostly, he wishes things could go back to normal. Staying alive would be much easier without Shane fighting him every step. Shane snorts.

“Didn’t say I wasn’t grateful. Fuck knows somebody else would have left me out there. Hell – you probably should have.” Shane shrugs a little. “But you’ve always been the good one, I guess, so it ain’t surprisin’. I mean, shit – there was a reason everyone liked you.”

Rick says nothing at first. The other man seems to be.. at least in a better mood than yesterday. Enough to be nice, anyway. “I guess,” He finally responds, running a hand through his curls. “But you’re my friend. I couldn’t leave you.”

“Were friends.” Shane mumbles. Rick’s heart sinks a little and he sighs, letting the conversation drop. Then Carl brings over some packages of food and the tension is broken – slightly anyway. They tear into the food and share a bottle of water, and even though the food isn’t very good and the water is lukewarm, it feels like the best thing Rick’s ever tasted.

“Oh!” Carl says, as they’re finishing up. “I found something else, too.”

He pulls out a little square and unfolds it. It’s.. a map. Rick cranes his head to see it better, suddenly excited. If they have a map, and they can figure out where they are..

Unfortunately, that’s the hard part. He has no idea where they are now. He’s not even really sure where the farm is on a map – it’s not marked, of course, and he can’t even tell which road it would be. He squints a little.

“Here,” Shane says abruptly, pointing to a spot on the map. “The farm’s about here.”

“How can you tell?” Carl says curiously, and Rick glances over. Shane hums.

“See, we aren’t so far from the highway,” He explains. “We went to Atlanta, here, see.. and we didn’t go very far from the city, so we probably ended up around here.” He moves his finger to a few small roads off I-85. “I’m guessing it was probably this road. So _here_ would be the farm.”

Rick has to admit: he’s kind of impressed. Geography had never really been his strong point in school, so he’s glad Shane had paid attention to _something_. He frowns. “So which direction do we go, then? Back towards Atlanta?”

“Hell no.” Shane shakes his head. “That’s a suicide mission, man. Nah – any direction but north.”

“Alright,” Rick says slowly, cocking his head at the map in thought. “I guess we could head south, then? Head back to the farm, see what’s left – see if we can find where the others went. Tracks or something.”

Shane shrugs, looking rather disinterested. “It’s not like I can go anywhere on my own, so..”

“South it is,” Rick decides. “But not for a while. We need to rest – you especially,” he adds to Shane, frowning a little. “I guess for now let’s settle in.”

Carl picks up one of the fantasy books Rick had discovered and immediately plops himself in the floor to read. Rick’s glad, at least – the end of the world has given his son a newfound appreciation for reading. Rick slides off the bed and wanders over to the window, peering out through the near-blinding daylight. They’re going to have to learn to hunt, he supposes, or farm – even if they don’t stay here, they can’t rely on finding food forever.

Something moving catches his eye down below, then. He drops his gaze curiously. _A deer, probably_ , he thinks, _or something like that_. After all, as far as he can tell, they’re pretty deep in the woods, so an animal isn’t too unlikely.

Then he realizes it – whatever “it” is – is _trying_ to hide from his sight. He frowns, leaning forward a little in an attempt to see it better. He can’t. It’s behind a bush now, and no amount of craning his neck helps.

“The hell you doin’, Rick?” Shane grunts from the bed, and Rick glances over, his concentration broken.

“There’s somethin’..” He trails off as he looks back out the window. Whatever he’d seen is gone now, and the yard is empty. “There was somethin’ out there.”

“Probably a deer, man, or a stray walker, or something.” Shane frowns. “Don’t get all upset about it.”

Rick hesitates for a second, then sighs, quietly closing the curtains. “You’re right,” He says, rubbing his face. “I’m.. making a big deal out of it. I guess I’m just tired.. it’s been a long few days.”

“You got that right.” Shane snorts, shakes his head. “Maybe you should take a nap or something.”

“No.” Rick sighs, sinking down against the wall, picking up a book from the pile and settling in to read for a while. “No, I’m awake now.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to clarify: they spend about 5-6 weeks at the cabin :')

They stay for a handful of weeks, and by the time they’re able to leave, Rick feels like he’s losing his mind.

He keeps seeing _something_ , of that he’s certain. It makes him antsy to leave with each passing day. Shane is healing nicely, at least, and he distracts himself by showing Carl how to make traps for food. They’re not living large, by any means, but they’re making it. However, the..  _thing_ , whatever it is, is always lingering in the back of his thoughts, a flickering shadow outside their residence, and he itches to leave in an attempt to flee it, to the point where it consumes most of his waking moments.

When the day to leave finally arrives, Rick feels so on edge he thinks he might burst. He’s tense with nervous energy as he waits for the others to wake up; there’s no sign of movement as he watches the sun rise, at least. Shane stirs first, groaning sleepily, and Rick turns to face him.

“Morning,” The man mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. He’s mellowed out in the time they’ve spent here, at least a little, and while Rick wouldn’t call him “friendly” in any sense of the word, he’s not actively hostile. Rick sighs softly.

“Mornin’.”

Shane sits up, running a hand through his mussed hair. The wound on his shoulder is forming an ugly scar; it’s very similar to Rick’s, and Rick resists the urge to reach up and touch his own scar. Shane fumbles for his shirt and tugs it on, breaking Rick’s concentration, and Rick sighs, glancing out through the window again.

“You alright, man?” Shane says, adjusting the hem of his shirt. Rick nods.

“Yeah. Just.. ready to be out of here. You sure you're gonna be alright?”

Shane scowls a little. “Yeah. I’m fine. My shoulder’s fucked, not my legs.”

Rick doesn’t bristle at his hostility anymore. Instead he hums and runs a hand through his hair. “Just checking,” He murmurs. “I don’t want to be held back.. and I’m not leaving you behind, so you better be ready.”

“Yeah, I got that already.” Shane grunts, reaching for his boots. Carl begins to stir, then, so Rick lets the conversation drop, tipping his head back against the window.

Carl quickly pulls on his shoes and coat, and Rick does one last quick sweep of the house before they leave. There’s nothing, of course, but Rick still feels better when they step outside into the cold air. He half-remembers which way they’d come, but still he glances to Shane to send them the right direction. Shane sets off first, a bag over his uninjured shoulder, with Rick and Carl trailing behind – Rick ensures Carl stays between them. He knows if there’s one thing he can count on Shane for, it’s to keep Carl safe.

Rick considers trying to make conversation a handful of times, but he gets the impression that’s not a good idea, just based on the unhappy set of Shane’s shoulders. He guesses Shane is probably in pain; even a “big, tough” man like Shane is going to be hurt by a gunshot wound. So he keeps his mouth shut and his eyes on Carl’s back, ensuring his son is alright through their trek.

Since they’re walking – and this time, they’re not fueled by adrenaline – it takes a while to reach the farm. Rick is sure they’re lost a couple of times, but he doesn’t verbalize this, and they always get back on the path again anyway. Based on the sun, Rick thinks, it’s about noon by the time they crest a hill overlooking the farm. Rick doesn’t think this is where they’d initially dashed into the woods, but at least they’re here. That’s the only perk, though: the whole damn place is still absolutely crawling with walkers. Rick frowns, brows pulling together.

“Do we go back?” Carl asks uncertainly. Rick hums in thought.

“No. We’ll wait for a while and see if a path through opens up.”

Carl nods and immediately sits down in the grass under a tree. Rick follows suit next to him, and, after a moment, Shane does, too, not far from them. Carl immediately curls up with his head on Rick’s knee. For a long few minutes, they sit in silence, watching the walkers stumble around.

“You remember the day, way back when, when we had to get that cat out of the sewer?” Shane murmurs after a little while, seeming in a better mood than he was earlier. “Right after we got off duty.”

Rick snorts, head tipping back against the tree. “Yeah,” He chuckles. “Mangy thing. Sure was nice to see that little girl so happy, though.”

Shane cracks a little smile, the first Rick has seen in ages. He’s got a light dusting of scruff these days, hair growing back into the fluff Rick remembers from before he’d shaved it all off. It’s still short, but it’s growing.

“Pretty sure I scarred from that,” Shane says. “Damn. Just.. I wish that was our the worst of our problems these days.”

Rick hums agreement. He’s not sure why or how Shane is being so friendly, but he’s not going to complain. Still.. that’s one problem solved, probably, but there’s so many more left. They have to find the group again, and – even more important – a place to be safe, to live. Carl needs to a place to safely be a _child_ , even if it’s just this small, dysfunctional family. The thought of not finding their group again makes Rick feel slightly nauseous, so he shoves the thoughts to the back of his head and instead casts a glance over at Shane. Shane’s gaze is on the farm; the other man is clearly lost in thought, brows drawn and lips pressed tight together. Rick wonders what he’s thinking about – if he’s thinking about them, or simply the future, or what.

_Do you like him?_

The memory of Carl’s question returns, drifting lazily through his mind as he looks down at his dozing son. Then, he’d brushed it off, thinking it was ridiculous. He’s not gay, has never been gay, certainly. Definitely. Even if he’d gone through a confused, experimental phase in high school – and maybe he’d ogled Shane a bit then – but now? No. Surely not.

But..

He casts another sideways glance at Shane. It’s not like he isn’t aware of how attractive his friend is. After all, Shane had always been the one dating around, being hit on, seeming to have a new girlfriend every week. Rick hadn’t minded that, thanks to the whole _confused_ thing – he’d thought he’d had a little crush on another boy in school – but he had at least _noticed_. Shane had been boyishly handsome then, and he’s only grown into himself since then.

But being able to admit such a thing doesn’t mean he’s gay. He’s just comfortable, and he’s had time to think about it. He isn’t attracted to Shane; Shane’s smooth, sharp jawline, and warm brown eyes, and sweet, shy grin, and his..

 _Shit_.

“Look,” Shane says, breaking Rick out of his reverie. “There’s an opening. We can get through now – if we hurry.”

Rick gently shakes Carl up, and the three of them clamber to their feet. Rick readies his knife, as does Shane, and together they trek down the hill. They move fast, trying to keep attention off of them as they creep through the swarm, but their.. smell, or whatever, Rick has no idea, seems to draw the walkers’ attention. The dead ones turn to them, groaning and moaning, and Rick realizes they won’t make it.

“Run!” He hisses to the other two, and they take off running. Rick shoves his blade into as many dead skulls as possible, shepherding Carl ahead of him, but there are just so damn many. He barely manages to yank Carl back from a walker’s outstretched hand, and when he lifts his head, his heart racing, he realizes he can’t see Shane.

“ _Shane_!” He shouts, voice hoarse, as he backs away with Carl tucked close to him. There’s no sign of movement from where the other man had been. Rick’s heartrate picks up, beating so hard and fast he thinks it might come right out of his chest. _No, shit, no_ , he thinks desperately; he can’t have rescued Shane only for the man to die like this-

“Rick!”

One of the walkers in front of them collapses from Shane’s knife in the back of its skull. Rick could sob with relief. Shane grabs onto one of Carl’s hands and shouts a “come on, stay in a line!”, and together they sprint through the swarm. Sweat clings to Rick’s skin and hair, making him half-blind, but he clings to Carl and kills as many as he can on their way through.

They run into the trees, directly opposite the hill they’d originally come down. The weeks spent in the house haven’t done them any good, and Rick’s muscles burn with exertion. Luckily, though, they don’t have too many trailers, and when they finally slow down Rick and Shane dispatch them with ease as Carl looks on, expression mildly shell-shocked.

“God _damn_ ,” Shane pants, and Rick groans an agreement, leaning his hands on his knees. His chest is tight, strained and burning. _Hell_. They definitely need to keep in shape. Fortunately, it looks like they're going to be on the road for a while, so no chance of them going soft any time soon.

“So much for that plan,” Rick grunts. Shane gives a shaky laugh.

“Yeah. At least we’re still on the right path.”

“Small comfort.” Rick grimaces. After a moment he stands up straight again: they need to find a shelter, somewhere to unwind. “I guess we go this direction, then,” He says, rubbing the sweaty back of his neck. Shane nods.

“Let’s go.”

It’s some stroke of luck the trees shelter them from the sun. They trek single-file through the woods, Carl in the middle like before, and Rick watches the smooth, rippling muscles of Shane’s back, thoughts wandering a little. He quickens his pace for a moment.

“Should we be goin’ this way?” He murmurs to the other man. “I mean – I know this is the path, but.. the farm..”

Shane glances at him, frowning a little. “ _You_ wanna go back to that shitfest?” And Rick drops it, then, quietly resuming his place behind Carl. Shane's right: there's no getting through that.

It’s not nightfall when they stop, but they all need rest – Carl especially. They take refuge in a worn-down house; there’s no roof, and there are some holes in the walls, but it’s better than nothing. Rick sets up a makeshift camp while Shane searches for some firewood, and by the time the sun sets and night falls they have a nice, small fire, and they’ve rationed out food and water.

As soon as they’re done eating, Carl crawls into his sleeping bag and falls asleep. Rick and Shane sit up and watch the crackling fire for a while. Rick’s thoughts are scrambled, all over the place, and he’s not really looking at the fire so much as through it, not really seeing it.

“We’ll find them,” Shane says abruptly, drawing his attention. “The rest of them. We’ll find them.”

“I know. Just.. I’m scared,” Rick admits, glancing at Carl to ensure his son won’t hear his fears. “If we don’t – if we _can’t_. What do we do if we can’t?”

“Live.” Shane shrugs, frowning. “What the hell else is there, right? We can’t just lay down and die. And we won’t stop trying.”

Rick nods. He draws his knees up to his chest and folds his arms on top, resting his chin on top of them. He gives a short sigh. Shane looks tired, despite the hard set of his jaw; he's holding his shoulder stiffly in place, and Rick knows from experience it's probably hurting him. Rick softens, head tilting.

“You should rest, Shane.”

Shane scowls a little, brows furrowing. “I’m fine, Rick. I’m not going to let anything happen to you two.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Rick catches his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. “I just.. let me keep watch first. I need to think about some stuff.”

Shane stares at Rick for a long moment, clearly debating arguing. Then he seems to decide otherwise, and instead he slips into his sleeping bag, sighing reluctantly. It’s silent for a few minutes, save for the sounds of the night, but then Shane says, “Rick?”, in a voice much gentler than Rick had imagined coming from him. He almost sounds.. _pitying_ , Rick thinks.

“Yeah?” He croaks, staring into the trees. Shane shifts in his bag.

“Don’t worry too much about it, okay? We’ll find them, and we’ll be fine.”

Rick swallows and doesn’t respond, unable to find the words. Shane’s been flip-flopping all day, but the kindness seems just as genuine as the anger, and while Rick is confused by it all he’s grateful. Shane is clearly trying to placate him, soothe him, even if it’s in a clumsy way. Rick can appreciate that.

Rick sighs weakly and stares into the trees, his thoughts racing. _Jesus_ , he’s so confused.


End file.
